


falling, falling, falling

by iidkkdii



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Codependency, Crowley (Good Omens) Is Not Crowley (Supernatural), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Emotional, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Heaven & Hell, I'm Bad At Tagging, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Smut, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, No Smut, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pet Names, Plans For The Future, Post-Coital Cuddling, Romantic Fluff, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 11:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19393306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iidkkdii/pseuds/iidkkdii
Summary: it's like falling from heaven, but this time... in love.





	falling, falling, falling

aziraphale has known for a while that he’s in l- that he doesn’t  _ hate _ crowley. he’s known that he doesn’t  _ despise _ the idea of spending eternity with him, and certainly not that he would spend eternity with a demon… it’s just. if he had to, he wouldn’t be opposed. 

and, on the other hand, crowley’s known that he’s in  _ something  _ with aziraphale. what that thing is, he’s quite sure what it is, but doesn’t want to admit it. both he and aziraphale don’t want to admit that feeling to themselves, much less each other. 

they don’t need each other. it’s not like crowley doesn’t drink his nights away, and aziraphale definitely doesn’t lose sleep at night, and they both don’t feel a tug towards each other when they’re apart. that tug isn’t stronger when they’re together, not painfully tight and chokingly devastating. 

tonight, the string pulls tighter and the two step closer with it. they know they’re crossing a line. one they may never uncross. one they aren’t sure they want to uncross. 

the string winds tighter - crowley’s fingers itch to touch and aziraphale itches to be touched. they step closer, their hearts pounding in unison and bodies aching. when their chests finally touch and their breath mingles, crowley takes off his sunglasses. 

yellow snake eyes gleam in the candlelight in aziraphale’s bookshop, soft and golden. crowley’s sharp features soften and he leans down, a sliver of hope that maybe… maybe aziraphale will meet him in the middle. gentle lips meet his own and it’s like.. it’s almost like he never fell at all, like the white wings never singed black, like he was never a snake. he was never a demon, crawling around hell, slithering around on his belly. 

it’s like he’s home. finally, he’s home. 

for aziraphale, it’s as if he’s ascended. ascended higher. his brain feels muddled and cloudy and swimmingly perfect. hesitantly, he raises his hands and puts them on crowley’s chest, fingers played across the fabric of crowley’s coat. 

crowley ends the kiss just as he started it and lifts his hand to touch aziraphale’s cheek. he stays close, not wanting to leave, not wanting to break this link they’ve created. aziraphale averts his eyes, suddenly shy, a bright pink blush on his cheeks. he studies his fingers on crowley’s chest. 

the demon tips his angel’s chin up, leaning down again, silently asking  _ i want to kiss you again, but i’m too embarrassed to say it aloud. please kiss me?  _

aziraphale hesitated, the thought of heaven finding out about this terrified him but the heat from crowley’s hand on his face was… wonderful. it was warm and wonderful and aziraphale wants that same heat on his lips again. 

“crowley, w-we-” aziraphale starts, running his palms up and around crowley’s neck. “we shouldn- we can’t.” 

crowley leans closer, pressing his forehead against his angel’s, running his hand through his angel’s hair. “would you allow me to tempt you?” 

aziraphale, despite his best wishes, leans up and closes his eyes, kissing crowley with a gentle defiancy. a fuck-you to heaven and hell as crowley reciprocates and pulls his angel closer. their kiss deepens as they get more desperate and run farther from that line. aziraphale clings to crowley as his demon wraps a steady arm around his waist and cups the back of his neck with a hot hand. 

the angel parts away, staying close enough to whisper, “consider me tempted,” against crowley’s lips before letting crowley back him into a pillar. 

crowley shucks off his jacket and chucks it somewhere in the little sitting room, dipping his hands underneath aziraphale’s coat. “tell me if you don’t like something, okay, angel?”

aziraphale nods, running damp palms up crowley’s black dress shirt, fingers slipping against silver necklaces. the angel miracles his coat away, neatly hung up on a coat rack. crowley’s leather jacket is hung up to - an angel miracle. 

he looks up, gray eyes unsure and scared.  _ of what _ ? crowley wonders,  _ of heaven? of them finding out?  _

crowley kisses his angel again, tilting his head and closing his eyes. he can feel aziraphale’s eyelashes on his cheekbone. it’s a feeling he wants - needs - to remember and memorize. aziraphale’s lips are soft and… angelic, heavenly. crowley never wants to stop kissing him, and even though they don’t need oxygen technically, he still pauses the kisses to give the easily overwhelmed angel a break. let him breathe and figure out what he wants, but then straight back to making aziraphale forget which side he’s supposed to be on, making the angel forget michael and gabriel. making him forget all the nasty things all the angels have said to and about him - that he’s pathetic and a waste of an angel. he’s not.

crowley quite likes him as he is. small, naive, anxious. crowley likes him for his flaws, after all, there’s a reason they’ve been friends for six thousand years instead of crowley affiliating with a different angel. he almost prefers him with flaws. if aziraphale were perfect, crowley would be bored. 

but he’s not. aziraphale is lame and beautiful and just the right amount of angelic and bastard for crowley. 

aziraphale pants, chest heaving and regaining his mind back, before the inevitable onslaught of his demon ripping that away again. instead of crowley kissing his lips, he dips lower, kissing his angel’s neck, tipping his head in order to get a better angle. 

aziraphale makes noises crowley’s never heard before, and wants to keep hearing forever. like music to his ears, those sounds. soft gasps and trembling whispers. all breathy and soft and quiet. crowley finds himself wondering what aziraphale would sound like if he were louder. until he could find out, he’d be content with littering his neck with butterfly kisses and hot, open-mouthed ones. 

crowley’s tongue feels heavy on aziraphale’s neck, hot and wet, his eyelashes tickling just above where his nose drags across his skin. the occasional scrape of teeth sends a  _ zing!  _ of something tingling down aziraphale’s spine. the angel finds himself miracling away his waistcoat, bowtie… all for crowley to discover more territory and claim it for his own. 

the two feel tingly and strange, this is different for the both of them, but somehow  _ so  _ familiar at the same time. it’s new and exciting and  _ terrifying  _ at the same time. if either of their sides found out… 

crowley tilts aziraphale’s head at an angle and resumes kissing and licking and making a mess of the angel’s neck. at least, the parts that he could reach. neither of them could be bothered with thinking about the future, just the now, just each other, the heat and the touching and the sounds of breathing and hushed whimpering. 

the angel’s demon kisses up his jugular and along his jaw and back to his lips, running soothing palms all over the angel’s torso. if aziraphale’s mind was blacking out prior to the neck kissing, imagine what happened to him after it. he moves on auto-pilot, letting crowley swallow his wonderful little noises. his fingers dance over the demon’s shoulders, down his arms, pushing his hands down off his waist and onto his hips. 

aziraphale’s hands work on crowley’s top, pulling it down off the demon’s shoulders when crowley stops him. 

“slow down, my angel,” crowley murmurs, putting the shirt back on, but leaving it unbuttoned to let aziraphale run warm hands over his skin. “not now.”

cold jewelry mixed with aziraphale’s roaming palms nearly made crowley’s brain short-circuit, restart and try again. crowley deepened the kiss to give him something else to focus on, to ignore aziraphale’s gradually lowering hands, reaching the belt and waistband on his dark skinny jeans. 

crowley hooks his fingers in aziraphale’s pants, pulling him closer and then running his hands through his angel’s hair. 

***

aziraphale sits on the sitting room couch and combs his fingers through crowley’s red hair. crowley’s spread across the couch the best a tall, lanky demon can be, legs strewn about and arms doing the same. crowley’s head rests on top aziraphale’s thighs. his eyes are closed, sunglasses folded on the coffee table. his shirt is still undone and now, somehow, his belt is still across the floor. he doesn’t care. 

aziraphale’s fingers feel too good, scratching his scalp. 

“thank you for… for stopping,” aziraphale says suddenly. 

crowley waves it off, dismissing it. “any decent person would do it, don’t thank me.” 

“i feel like i have to. i-it’s part of being an angel,” aziraphale explains, pausing his hands’ movements until crowley pokes one of his hands. 

“angel, listen to me,” crowley says, snapping his fingers, and grabbing aziraphale’s attention. “don’t ever apologize to me. you don’t have to. you can feel safe where you don’t have to explain yourself all the time. i trust you.” 

the angel smiles and looks away, cheek flushing pink. the demon shuts his eyes again, smiling, grabbing aziraphale’s hand and holding it, lacing their fingers. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> so far i've watched good omens... what, three or four times? i love this fucking show so much


End file.
